


Oh Sherlock...

by PotterWhoLockLin



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Scandal in Belgravia, Unconscious, drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterWhoLockLin/pseuds/PotterWhoLockLin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing scene from ASiB. Sherlock is drugged out of his mind and John has to somehow get him home, while Lestrade films him on his phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Sherlock...

John burst into the room. He had just heard (after checking the back door, as suggested by Miss Adler) some loud and altogether worrying noises from Irene's bedroom. Where Sherlock was. And so John burst into the room.  
Irene Adler stood over Sherlock, still clad in his coat, stroking one of his razor sharp cheekbones with the end of a black riding crop. He heard her finish saying something to Sherlock, and his ears strained to catch it. What was she saying?"...the woman who beat you."

Ah.  
But, John thought, why wasn't Sherlock fighting back? As Irene walked over to a window, Sherlock groaned and made to move, but collapsed back onto the polished floor with a faint thud.  
"Jesus, what are you doing?" John said, hurriedly making his way over to Sherlock.  
"He'll sleep for a few hours," said Irene, seating herself on the window ledge. "Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit...it makes for a very unattractive corpse."  
John spotted a syringe lying on the floor next to his friend. "What is this? What have you given him?" He spoke with more urgency, trying to get the detective to answer him. "Sherlock!"  
"He'll be fine," continued Irene, "I've used it on loads of my friends."  
"Sherlock," John said, trying to grab his attention, "can you hear me?"  
"You know, I was wrong about him. He did know where to look," John dimly heard Irene say. He turned to look at her.  
"For what? What are you talking about?"  
"The key code to my safe."  
"What was it?"  
"Shall I tell him?" she said to Sherlock. He gave a moan and attempted to pull himself off the floor. Irene smiled at John. "My measurements."  
Then she rolled backwards out the window, just as John heard the sirens. Great, brilliant timing, boys, he thought to himself sarcastically. He would have tried to stop her but, heeding her warnings about the drug, he contented himself with trying to restrain Sherlock, who most definitely was not himself.  
Greg Lestrade thundered up the stairs and into the room with what would have been impeccable timing, if Miss Adler had not already escaped.  
"Where is she? Why didn't you go after her?" He said. Then, realising that John was kneeling beside a body, stepped forward to take a closer look at Sherlock, whose eyes were rolling and whose limbs were twitching randomly. "What happened to him?"  
"The Woman got him with something," John muttered, showing him the syringe, and proceeded to tell him the whole, sorry tale. By the end of it, Lestrade's shoulders were shaking, and for a moment John actually thought he was crying. Then John realised that Greg's shoulders were shaking with mirth.  
"That," he choked out, "absolute...idiot. What a bloody... _daft_...thing to...do." He gave up and sank to his knees, howling with laughter. John huffed on Sherlock's behalf.  
"It's all very well to laugh about it," he said, uptight. "But I need an stretcher up here so I can take him home."  
"Ok, John," Greg said, gaining a small shred of dignity back. But then his eyes locked once more on Sherlock and he wept with laugher once more. "Hang on for a minute though...I have to video this..."  
John sighed and let him. Greg kept his word and called up the stretcher, but continued to video Sherlock on his phone right until the stretcher was up the stairs. John took a look at two of the policemen who had accompanied the stretcher, and swore.  
"We heard there was a casualty," said Sally Donovan, stepping towards Sherlock, of whom nothing more could be seen that a straining figure on the floor. Anderson walked right up to him, and then realised who the "casualty" was. And laughed. Oh god did they laugh.  
John brushed past them and went to help the paramedics with Sherlock, who was looking rather worse for wear by this point. His face was pale and his hair rumpled, and he kept up a stream of muttering about the car, innocent and vicar's disguise. John had not a bloody clue about any of it. He returned to the task at hand, which basically involved strapping Sherlock's struggling form onto the stretcher - not exactly easy, and every so often Sherlock's limp limbs would make a vain attempt to struggle away. It was almost amazing how a man who never ate could be so heavy.  
Eventually they got him sorted and proceeded to bump the stretcher down the stairs and out into the ambulance. Greg, thankfully, refused to let Donovan or Anderson in with them, though they looked like they so dearly wanted to.  
Once in the back of the ambulance, Sherlock beside them (lifeless now, the drug having fully taking effect), Greg turned to John and said, "so, this...this woman...are you seriously trying to tell me that she took all her clothes off...to flirt with _Sherlock_ _Holmes_?" That was it, he was off, cackling madly next to John, who sighed and stared at his comatose flatmate.  
Oh Sherlock, he thought. Did you really have to be so stupid?  
And then he sniggered along with Lestrade.


End file.
